


рек (of rivers)

by orphan_account



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-ish/AU, Gen, Short One Shot, Untold History, surely Bucky must have some brain trauma after years of electricity zapping him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29652804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: rivers trailed down from their hearts spilling over onto the soilthe wind wept as she swept up the traces of long lost innocenceand the bells chimed for new found lives.-Yasha makes James remember
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	рек (of rivers)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short one-shot take on Yasha and James trying to kill each other and failing completely.

Utter silence lay over the courtyard, and the darkness shrouded the lone man leaning against a cold headstone. Lavender peeked out from beneath stones and bushes, dousing everything with the soft smell of a summer night. 

"Yasha."

The man by the headstone stiffened ever so slightly before turning around to greet the soldier standing by the tall cast-iron gates. He dipped his chin, gaze firmly kept at the other's face. "Soldat."

_Soldat_ didn't move from his position, and yet the distance between the two suddenly seemed to diminish quickly. It was as if time had decided to stop spilling from the top of her hourglass. "You know why I am here."

Yasha held back the urge to shrug as if he were much younger than the years allowed. "For the same reason I am, I presume," he whispered softly, letting the calm midnight breeze carry the words if she wished. There was not much reason for him to respond. They both knew.

There was a beat, a pause in the universe, as if to signal that the tension in the air had neared it's breaking point.

"I'm sorry." 

And that was that. _Soldat_ leveled his treasured rifle at Yasha, and was met by the barrel of a pistol pointing at his head. The firearms disappeared as quickly as they had appeared and the two men sprang at each other's throats like wild dogs. 

Yasha snarled as an elbow caught him on his side, and retaliated with savage kick to the soldier's chest.

The soldier gasped, tears welling up in his eyes from the blow, and wrestled his arm behind the other man's neck, holding him in a chokehold. 

The taste of copper filled Yasha's mouth. A quick stab with a knife to the soldier's leg made the grip around his throat loosen and wriggled free, throwing all his weight forward so that the other man would fall.

The sound of heavy Kevlar rustling and metal clashing filled the night with a sad sort of tone. It was an opera of heavy music, rising and falling with every move the men took. The moon watched on, silent, and yet loud enough that his brightness spilled over the ghosts, painting with the shadows over their bodies. 

It was like watching a creature breathe rhythmically, tragically beautiful in a hauntingly dark way. It was art.

Yasha lost his breath as he was slammed into the graveyard walls, head smacking sickeningly into the hard rock. He twitched in pain, as the soldier pressed his chest into the wall. Stars burst around him. He went limp, and the soldier watched silently as his knees buckled beneath him. 

Something pulled horribly inside of the soldier, and he let go, allowing Yasha to crumple into the tufts of gentle flowers. He dug his nails into his scalp in a rare loss of control.

Yasha bit back a groan and climbed to his feet, the blood rushing to his head making him see stars for the second time. Somewhere in his rattled brain he recognized that as a red flag.

The soldier whipped around and lunged, but it was a moment too late, and Yasha slammed the man into the stone wall. "How the tables they have turned," he whispered, leaning close by _Soldat's_ ear, and the soldier pulled back his lips like a wild wolf. 

The clouds shrouded the moon in a blanket of despair, and the light faded from the courtyard. It was pitch dark, and something in the soldier's eyes screamed of feral instincts. 

"You hesitated," Yasha said, certain of what the stumble he had witnessed the soldier have meant. "Why?"

The soldier blinked rapidly, as a wave of something filled his mind. He gasped. He was drowning in clear air.

"Why _?"_

_And the soldier fell back into the ocean, water filling his lungs with a stabbing coldness to it. He was drowning. He was falling. He was falling through the air, falling through a tunnel like Alice through the rabbit-hole, and he strangled back a yelp at the intensity of the image that played out in front of him. Where did the rabbit-hole appear from? He stared at his hands, and down at his legs, and down blinked at his boots which were now stood on solid ground. Water lapped at his feet, and he scrambled backwards as waves and waves of saltwater rushed down from above like a waterfall._

"Think, Soldat."

_The soldier raised his head to the surface, reaching his one hand to the moon. The other arm was no longer, and he panicked at the sight of the missing limb, coughing and gasping, as he drowned._

_"Swim," a voice inside him ordered, and he obeyed like the loyal soldier he was conditioned to be._

_He swam upwards, strangely gentle. A latter of thin ice covered the water, and he yelled in panic when he couldn’t get out. The sound was drowned by the loud underwater silence._  
  
“You can see it, can’t you? Break it. James.”

_He pushed upwards, punching the ice with his fists, belatedly realizing that both his arms were attached to his body. The ice shattered, spiderwebs spiraling outwards running towards the horizon, and he punched it again, slamming upwards with all the force he could muster. His face was numb, and his hands were numb, and his legs slowed down their kicking._

_He screamed._

_Everything screamed, and a ringing noise, like the whistle a master whistles his dog with, pierced the ice, shattering it into a thousand small pieces.  
  
He broke through the surface gasping and gulping in the fresh air. His body felt as if it were on fire, and he clung onto a drifting sheet of ice, laying his head onto his shoulders as he drifted away into the breaking horizon of dawn._

And above him, Yasha stood still watching the soldier twitch on the grass below him, his facial expression one of grim acceptance laced with a twinge of respect. The soldier’s self was still somewhere in there, he had just been buried deep beneath the cold throughout the years.

He hesitated for a moment, then leant back on his gravestone once more, waiting for the solider to stop seizing and wake up.  
  
The moon dipped down beneath the ground, and the sun rose on the ghosts in the graveyard, thawing their broken and bruised bodies gently by the minute, oblivious to the bloody dance that had unfolded before her yawn.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback or constructive criticism would be pretty sick. I’m trying to improve my writing so be kindly brutal :) Thanks!


End file.
